


Monsters are real

by VeniViciVetinari



Category: Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Betrayal, Dark, EvilEric, Murder, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 11:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17323898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniViciVetinari/pseuds/VeniViciVetinari
Summary: One Shot: Eric takes revenge on Peter for what he did to Linna (OC). Eric's POV of chapters 12 & 13 of my story "Rising from the ashes". Won't make much sense as a stand alone.Warning: Dark. Character death. Peter gets what he deserves.





	Monsters are real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Divergentgirl811](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Divergentgirl811/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rising from the ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437258) by [VeniViciVetinari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniViciVetinari/pseuds/VeniViciVetinari). 



Monsters are real, ghosts are real, too.  
They live inside us, and sometimes they win.  
Stephen King

  
\------------

  
It's the fact that she won't even look at me that kills me. Even in the beginning, on the very first day she set foot into Dauntless, Lianna wasn't too afraid to look at me. I could see the fear in her big brown eyes then, but there was also strength, stubbornness and unyielding determination. Now my proud little wildcat looks everywhere but at me as she slowly climbs out of the chair, determined to hide how much the simulation has shaken her.

I watch her as she leaves the room without saying a word. It takes all my strength to not go after her immediately, to tell her that her fear is unfounded, that I'm not planning to hurt her or her family. That I'm trying to do the opposite in fact. But after everything I've done to her, I doubt she'd believe a word I say.

Some tension leaves her body as the door closes behind her. Four, stater of the fucking obvious, chooses this moment to open his mouth.

"You know, it was high time for you to show up in one of her fears. Jeanine was getting impatient. She can't know that you're not treating Lianna as badly as she'd like to think. We can't afford to be careless now."

I roll my eyes. How I'm supposed to overthrow a government with a fuckwit like him is beyond me.

"Thanks for explaining my own fucking plan to me, Stiff. This might come as a surprise to you, but I'm well aware what it would mean if her Iciness caught on to us too soon."

When he throws me a pitying look I'm seriously regretting ever letting everybody's darling in on my idea to rid our city of Jeanine and her crazy plans to kill our Divergents and control the rest of the population.

"Don't worry. I'm sure Linna will understand once initiation is over and you can tell her everything. She's smart, she'll get what you were doing and forgive you."

What the heck is he going on about? Whilst it would be good if my wildcat would use her considerable brains to help us move our plan along, I don't want nor need her forgiveness. Once this is over, we'll either all be dead or she'll move on and make her own way. She'll be free of me then, and will probably take the first opportunity to get as far away from me as she possibly can.

I ignore the weird feeling the idea of her not being around anymore causes. It's probably indigestion, the food in the mess hall was barely edible today. I make a mental note to let the kitchen staff know exactly what I think of them shirking their duties. Having them collect our food from Amity themselves and dealing with the stoners' never ending chatter and happiness for a month should sort them out.

Four misinterprets my silence and blabbers on, because the guy just can't take a hint.

"If you're that worried about what she thinks, maybe ease up on her a little. Try to be nicer to her at home where no one can see."

That's it. This is really all I'm willing to take for now. Ever since Four has somehow managed to get the Stiff-Divergent infatuated with him he's become unbearable to be around. He keeps trying to pass on his wisdom, his advice for successful relationships. I square my shoulders as I get up, staring down at him, letting stony silence convey my message. We might be on the same team, but he better remember who's calling the shots here. I'm pleased when he averts his eyes and turns back towards the computer.

"This sim gives me something to work with. I can use it to make you appear in a few more of her fears, if we need to."

I give him a brief nod before I walk towards the door. I just flip him off when he calls "I just messaged Zeke in the Control room, she's taking the longer route to your flat, the one through the storage area." I don't need to know nor care where she went. And yet my feet carry me towards the stairs to the basement on their own accord.

I'm not following her to see if she's alright. It's just that in recent leadership meetings Tori has been going on and on about how there aren't enough cameras down there to prevent people from stealing, and I might as well check whether she's exaggerating as usual. This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the woman currently sharing my life and my bed walked away from me looking like a zombie, apparently afraid I might kill her. Nothing at all.

  
\------------

  
There's no sight of her as I walk down the corridors. I'm not hurrying, of course I'm not, but my stride is much longer than hers and I should really have caught up with her by now. Compared to me she's absolutely tiny. I wouldn't be surprised if Four got the directions wrong, but Zeke is rarely so careless. I sigh inwardly at the idea of Four's consequences-be-damned manner rubbing off on him. I really don't have the time to retrain my already small team of co-conspirators.

One thing I have to admit though is that the lighting isn't particularly good down here. Seems Tori knew what she was talking about for once. We might also need to send down a cleaning crew if we want to prevent mould making our storage area unusable. I touch a dark spot on the wall absent-mindedly as I walk past. To my surprise it's wet.

I realise with a start that what I took for some damp is actually a fresh stain of blood on the wall. All thoughts of Four and Zeke are gone. Whoever was bleeding in my hallway must be somewhere in front of me. There's a storage room around the corner, and I reach for the handle without thinking.

The scene unfolding in front of me as I slam the door open makes my blood boil. I have to fight to keep the red haze at bay that threatens to engulf me. My wildcat, hands bound and gagged, clothes torn, bleeding. Peter, fucking Peter, bent over her trying to get her pants off.

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing with my property?"

It's her eyes again that ground me, despair and relief shining through unshed tears, reminding me that I need to keep my shit together if I want her out of here safely. I'm going to strangle the fucking bastard for laying hands on her. For thinking he has the right to even look in her direction. How dare he touch what's mine.

He spews some shit about helping me out. Fuckwit! He's trying to appear confident, but I know him. I've known what he was from the second he arrived at Dauntless, cocky, arrogant and way too sure of himself. Peter has always been a little too keen to win, a little too willing to break the rules to get ahead. But he was never strong enough to make it to the top on his own. So he had to get rid of his competition in a different way. Max likes him, of course he fucking does, but that's not going to help him right now. It's not going to save him. He attacked her. And for that he will pay.

"Step away, Peter. Right fucking now."

If he were truly Dauntless this is where he could prove himself. My wildcat never backs down from a challenge. But he isn't brave, not really, not like her. He embodies exactly what Max and Jeanine are trying to build, a faction of spineless, egocentric, thoughtless robots who care about nothing but satisfying their own needs. It would never occur to him to stand up to me if he didn't think he could win. And we're both aware that he has neither the strenght nor the connections to beat me.

All my plans of holding back go out the window when he leers at her. When he reminds me that he touched her. My fist connects with his jaw before he even has a chance to defend himself, and I don't know where I find the self-restraint to not kill the fucker right here. Just knocking him out is too good for him, doesn't give me the satisfaction I need, but my priority, first and foremost, is her. I need to get her out of here, somewhere safe, where nobody can touch her.

I know that Peter is not going to move for a while, but nevertheless I position myself between her and him when I crouch down next to her. Whoever wants to hurt her will have to go through me first. A rarely used voice in my brain pipes up, reminding me that the one person who caused her the most pain is me, that I'm the one she needs protection from. I drown it out.

Lianna is shivering, probably both from the cold and the adrenaline rushing through her. I search her face for clues on how she will react to my presence, prepared to withdraw as soon as I've freed her from the gag and the ties binding her. But she doesn't flinch when I pull the fabric from her mouth. Still, I make sure she doesn't have time to focus on the knife cutting the zip ties before I hide it away again.

I vow to make Peter suffer as I watch her sit up and draw in shuddering breaths, trying hard to hide how she truly feels. Something twists deep inside me when again she stares straight ahead instead of looking at me. This is on me. I'm not the one who hurt her this time, but it was on me to protect her. And I failed.

"You okay?"

Shit! Even as I speak I realise how stupid that question is. She's bleeding from multiple knife wounds, her clothing is torn and she's desperately trying to fix what's left of it. Of course she's not okay. To my surprise and instantaneous relief she nods, though she still refuses to look at me. I want to tell her that I'm not here to hurt her, but that's not what she needs from me right now.

I know my wildcat. She's shaken, but she won't break down while she's out here. She'll want to go back to the one place she feels safe, which for some weird ass reason seems to be my flat. She'll want to hide away and lick her wounds in private. I should give her space, should allow her to pull herself together without me interfering, but I can't stop myself from reaching out to steady her when she stumbles getting up. She doesn't flinch, doesn't draw back. I refuse to acknowledge the brief feeling of relief that comes with her lack of rejection.

Before we go back there's something I need to take care of. I can't let him get away. Even if he hadn't touched her, he can't be allowed to walk away and tell people that I'm not as indifferent towards my slave as people think I am. I'm well aware that it's dangerous and stupid. We're too far gone in our plans for me to draw attention to myself, but I can't let this one go unpunished.

I only let go of her arm once I'm sure she won't stumble and fall.

"Wait for me out there. I have something to discuss with Peter before we go back."

I close the door behind her. Something dark uncoils within me once my one reason for control and restraint is gone. When I turn to Peter, who just starts stirring again, it's not easy to put off the satisfaction of immediately killing the fucker. But it's not just my life on the line right now, so I pull myself together.

Instead of bashing his head in or cutting off his limbs one by one as he deserves I stare down on him as Peter slowly sits up. Bruises are already forming on his face, but they are nothing. Nothing compared to what he deserves, what I want to do to him. His death won't come this moment, but it will come tonight. And it won't be swift.

"Did I make myself clear?" If I have to look at him much longer I don't think I'll be able to keep it together. Everything in me itches to make him pay. But I can't. Not yet. There's too many cameras out there, too many screens for people to check if something happened to Peter right now. I have to be patient. And I'll have to do what I hate doing, and rely on other people to help me sort this shit out.

"Yeah man, message received. She's yours, got it."

"Make sure you remember that. Or you won't wake up this quickly next time."

His arrogance is still there, his pride more than bruised, but he's smart enough to avert his eyes when I give him a last hard look. He remains where he is as I leave the room.

When I step outside the sight of my wildcat, pale and dishevelled, makes me want to turn around and finish Peter off this instant. She's tied the remains of her shirt together but there's no way for her to fix the wound in her thigh or hide the bruises on her face. This will probably set off the rumour mills again that I'm a monster, mistreating the woman living in my home at every chance that I get, torturing her for my own sick amusement.

We're met with looks of pity and anger as we make our way back to the flat. Lianna is functioning on autopilot, following my directions without a question, walking closer to me than she usually does. There's nothing I want more right now than to hide her away from everybody, to make sure she's safe as she pulls herself back together, and I let out a relieved sigh when the doors to my flat close behind us.

  
\------------

  
When my wildcat sets off towards the bathroom without another word I don't stop her. I know her well enough by now to recognise her own pattern of dealing with things that hurt her. She'll want solitude, and for once I'm prepared to give it to her.

I sent off a quick message to Marc and Scott, telling them there's something we need to discuss and that I'll meet them at Marc's place later. I don't go into any more detail. The risk that Jeanine is already tapping into our faction's communication channels is too high.

It's only when the water in the shower doesn't turn off even half an hour later that I grow worried. I promised myself I'd give her the time she needs, but I can't shake the feeling that leaving her alone might have been a mistake. A cloud of steam billows towards me when I open the bathroom door. Lianna's shape is barely visible as I quickly step closer to the shower. She seems to be scratching at her arms, her movements frantic and lacking their usual grace. I'm unprepared for the intense heat of the water scalding my skin when I reach around her to turn off the tap.

"Fucking hell, are you trying to boil yourself alive?"

I don't mean to sound like an asshole for once, but I don't get what the fuck she's doing. Is she trying to hurt herself? She doesn't say anything, just blinks at me as if she can't even register my presence properly. I capture her hands when she reaches for the tap again.

"Let me turn on the water. I need to clean up."

"You've been in here for half an hour. You're clean. You need to come out and let me look at those cuts."

"I'm not. I can still feel him all over me. I'll just wash him off and then I'll come out, I promise."

Even her voice doesn't sound like her. It's sharp and high-pitched, nothing like her usual warm timbre. Ice sinks into my stomach when I realise that I let this happen. That the experience with Peter must've shaken her more than anything that has happened to her since she came to Dauntless. That it's entirely my fault that she's in pain.

But there's no time for wallowing in self-pity right now. I have no right to, not when Lianna is shaking in my arms, her eyes almost feverish. Without thinking I reach for a towel and put it around her. I can't take away her pain, but I can at least stop the shaking. I lift her out of the shower to prevent her from turning the water on again, and she feels too right in my arms for me to simply let go once we're both out of the shower cubicle. At least now I know that she's truly safe. That I got her.

"What are you doing? I'm not finished yet. Let me go."

She's almost screaming now, trying to wriggle out of my arm, but I'm not letting her go. Not if it means she's just going to hurt herself again. I understand the need to rid oneself of painful memories, but life just doesn't work like that. Causing pain doesn't cancel out hurt that you're feeling. I learned that the hard way.

"You were scalding your skin just now. You're not going back in there."

It's as if my words struck a chord, as if I snapped the string of her self-control. Her face falls, turning from anxiety to anguish. Her entire body sags forward, her shoulders start shaking, and before long my shirt is drenched in her tears. I don't know what to do, what to say to make her feel better. I just continue to hold her. Each sob drives a needle into my chest.

I'm at a complete loss on how to handle a situation like this. I've had enough people cry in front of me, be it failing initiates, girls unwilling to understand that I was only looking for no strings attached sex, or relatives of soldiers wounded or killed in action. None of them ever meant anything to me, and at best their display of emotion annoyed me. But Lianna is different. I don't want her to hide her pain from me.

I wrack my brain for something to say when her tears slowly subside. With a long shuddering breath she puts her head on my shoulder. I know I can't tell her of our plans for the future just yet, can't let her know that this will all be over soon one way or another. But I can at least make sure she knows that she doesn't have to fear Peter.

"He won't touch you again. That much I can promise."

She's quiet for a moment, probably trying to decide if she can trust me on that.

"Does Jeanine really want me back?"

The question catches me off guard. Peter won't pose any danger to her anymore in the morning, but Jeanine is a completely different matter. I try to come up with an answer that will satisfy my wildcat's curiosity and yet not give away too much.

"She's made a couple of pointless requests recently. I don't give up what's mine."

"Promise?"

I stiffen. Not because I have any intention of letting Jeanine or her cronies anywhere near her. But I need to be careful with what I say. I can't risk her catching on before initiation is over. I already failed in my plans of keeping my distance from her.

But the hopeful tone in her voice, the way she feels in my arms, and the trust shining in her big brown eyes prove my demise.

"I promise."

  
\------------

  
Fuck! I have to resist the temptation of throwing my fist against the wall outside my apartment. I meant every word I said to her, in fact I wanted to tell her so much more, but I should've just kept my mouth shut. This need to explain myself is unknown to me, and it only applies to her. To the woman who somehow again made me throw caution into the wind and wrenched a promise from me that I should never have given.

It's not that I intend to give her back to Jeanine, far from it. But she can't know. Not yet. Her participating in initiation is having the desired effect so far, she's proving that she can succeed despite her divergence and people are slowly starting to question the bullshit they've been fed for the last few years. But she can't know that I'm not setting her up to fail. Simulations are not over yet, and I can't risk her fears changing and inadvertently revealing our plans.

So now I'll have to live with the consequences of my mouth getting away from me. Just fucking great. As if having to deal with Peter once and for all wasn't enough for today.

The sight of people giving me a wide berth is somehow placating, and I've reined myself back in by the time I reach Marc's apartment. It's smaller than mine and looks on the brink of descending into pure chaos, as usual. I should be used to it by now, but it's a shock to me each time I visit him how someone so meticulous in his work can stand to live on a fucking dumpsite.

Scott is already lounging on the couch, making space for me as I approach. He tries to hand me a beer but I wave him off. Not that it would do much, but I have to be at my best to pull this off.

"So, what's the deal? Your message sounded quite mysterious, been taking a class in encryption lately?"

"If he did you know it'd be wasted on you."

"Oh yeah? Because you're that good at deciphering hidden messages? Judging from the amount of women who've slapped you at the club last night I'd say reading between the lines isn't your thing either."

"It was unlucky that they all found out about each other at the same time, that's all."

As entertaining as I normally find their constant bickering, I have no time for this now.

"Peter has to die. Tonight."

My statement, delivered through clenched teeth, immediately gets their full attention. Neither of my two best friends seems willing to goof around anymore.

"We got your back, Eric." Marc doesn't tell me anything I don't know, but his reassurance is welcome anyway. Scott simply nods in agreement.

"May I just ask why, though? Can't be because he's outlived his usefulness, because then you would've made sure he missed the net when he first showed up here."

Rage rears its ugly head when Scott's words remind me of why I'm actually here.

"He attacked her. After her simulation today. Cut her up and tried to rape her." I know I won't have to explain to them whom I'm talking about. They know the reason we've been hanging out a lot less lately. "I put a stop to it, but I think he might have realised that she's more than a slave. I screwed up."

Marc throws Scott a knowing look that I choose to ignore for now. This is on me. I didn't protect her as I should have, and now my carelessness is catching up with all of us.

"We can't risk him running around telling tales about how I'm going soft on my slave. If Jeanine hears a word about this we won't make it far enough to bring her down."

To their credit, neither of them question why Peter might think that I'm going soft on my wildcat in the first place.

"Fuck, for all I know she might have already heard about it."

I should've hunted him down as soon as she was safe, but I couldn't. Not when she needed me more.

"Alright. So we need a plan." Those who only know Scott as my slightly weird, goofy sidekick rarely understand why he's held in such high regards by the leadership team. They see the banter, the jokes, the need for attention, but they miss the cutting wit behind it all. Scott is one of our best strategists when he's actually focussed on something, and caught in the right mood he's ruthless enough to give Jeanine a run for her money.

"Luckily for us our friend Peter has a secret he doesn't want the faction to know about." Where Scott is brilliant with tactics, Marc is a never-ending source of information. Given enough time, there's nothing that can be kept hidden from him. He might not be the fastest, but he's tenacious, never giving up until he finds what he's looking for.

"I've been working on one of my random data analytic routines to figure out if we need to adjust our guards and patrol schedules. One of the lesser used entrances on the roof has had a lot more traffic over the last few months. I did some digging, and it looks as if Peter discovered a taste for some fresh air every once in a while. I had a chat with Zeke today, and he tapped into Peter's communication for me. Long story short, Peter has been in contact with someone outside the faction. From the content of the messages we think it must be someone from Erudite. He's been feeding them information, stuff like patrol sizes and shit, but also rumours and gossip that's going around. They also meet from time to time, somewhere on Dauntless territory. I've been meaning to have a closer look at it, but then I got your message. Zeke is still on it, though."

"How often are they meeting?"

"Not regularly. From what we've seen we think it depends on when the Erudite contact can get onto Dauntless territory undetected. Peter usually heads out about fifteen minutes after receiving a message."

An evil grin appears on Scott's face.

"Do you think Zeke could send a message from the Erudite to Peter?"

"No idea, but I can find out."

I think I have an idea where Scott is going with this.

"This entrance Peter is using, is it the one where you pass the Chasm if you're coming from the Pitt?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"So it's entirely possible that Peter might have an unfortunate incident on his way to betray his faction. Or that, having realised what he did, his conscience overcame him and he jumped."

Scott turns to me, his entire demeanour changed from jokester to war strategist.

"Right. Eric, you go to your office right now and pretend to get some work done. Marc and I will get in touch with Zeke and set everything up. We'll get Peter to the chasm tonight and make sure he doesn't come back. Then you can investigate his unexpected demise with the other leaders tomorrow morning."

"Fuck this, Scott. He attacked her. There's no fucking way I'll just sit in my office while you guys handle everything. You can get him to the chasm, but I'll be the one making sure he goes over."

Another quick glance between Scott and Marc that I choose not to read too much into right now.

"Mate, we know you want to do it yourself." I hate it when Marc's voice takes on this placating hue. He rarely does it with me because he knows I have not patience for bullshit, and so the few occasions when he thinks it warranted annoy me even more. "But it would make things a lot easier if you stayed out of them. We can't have his death tied back to what happened to Linna today. It's too risky."

"I said fucking no." After all the shit that happened to day I'm not in the mood to explain myself to my supposed best friends. Even hearing him use the shortened version of her name annoys me. I get up, done with the discussion, ready to leave.

"Eric, calm down. I get it." Scott was getting up with me, but we're both under no illusion that he couldn't do a thing to stop me from leaving. "Let us work things out with Zeke and meet us back at my place in an hour." He's in full thinking mode, unaffected by the hard look I give him. "I'll have a plan ready for you by then, and we'll get this over with nice and smoothly."

  
\------------

  
A few hours later, after discussions about timings and responsibilities and some clandestine messaging with Zeke and Four, our plan stands. Scott tried multiple times to convince me to leave everything to them, but I was having none of it. He's running me through the details of his plan for what feels like the hundredth time while I fight off the strong urge to just bash Peter's head in in front of the whole faction.

"Four said he'd be able to cut off the cameras in section 17 b and c. Something about causing an error between the recording system and the database. He can't give you more than an hour though, because that's how long it would normally take him to fix the issue."

"Which also means I can yell at him tomorrow, nice touch." We're on the same team, but Four and his sanctimoniousness are really getting on my nerves recently. "Tell him to make sure the feed cuts off at quarter to one. That should give me enough time to deal with Peter and get back here before it goes live again."

Zeke and Mark nod. Scott isn't satisfied, apparently. "You can't leave too many marks on him, Eric. Don't do anything that can't be explained by the chasm."

I roll my eyes at him, ready to storm off, but he steps in my way. I tower over him, wordlessly willing him to step aside. He's my friend, but my patience is waning quickly and I don't need to be lectured on how to best punish the bastard hurting my wildcat. He'll pay and he'll die, it's as easy as that.

Scott swallows, but holds his ground. "I mean it. I know you want nothing more than making sure he dies screaming. Hell, I get it. He hurt your girl. But we need to be smart here. Don't risk everything we've worked for just to get revenge. Kill him, but make it quick. You're of more use to all of us where you are right now. If they put you on trial for murder, Jeanine will have her claws in Lianna faster than you can say 'guilty'."

It takes everything I have not to smash my fist into his face, but deep down I know he's right. My priority must be ensuring the safety of the Divergent our plan rests on, not making Peter suffer, however much I want to. I acknowledge Scott's words with a curt nod, and he steps out of the way after giving me another hard look. I'm already halfway down the corridor before I realise that I never objected to Scott calling Lianna my girl.

  
\------------

  
It's five past one. Everything has been going smoothly until now. I spent the last few hours catching up on some work in my office, resisting the temptation of going back home and checking on her. Scott wandered off to find Max in his favourite bar and keep im enthralled in one of his endless failed-relationship stories. They drive me up the walls, but Max as the biggest gossip of this faction somehow soaks them up like a sponge. Mark's text "Fancy a cold one at my place?" let me know that Four managed to do the one job assigned to him and cut off the cameras. Showtime.

I'm completely calm as I wait for Peter to arrive. The adrenaline of a mission about to start makes some of our newest soldiers skittish, but for me it has always had the opposite effect. It enhances my senses but doesn't threaten my self-control. I turn cold, efficient, focussed. Very unlike the person walking out onto the bridge now.

Peter is obviously nervous, his body language edgy. Not for the first time I wonder how we could stoop so low as to let a rat like him join our faction. I can't hold back a grin. I'm going to enjoy this.

"Peter, Peter, Peter..." He whips around, the confusion on his face turning to fear as he realises who is stepping out of the dark tunnel to meet him.

"Expecting somebody else? Just when I thought you and I had worked things out." I shake my head, putting mock disappointment into my voice.

"Eric." He recovers quickly, I have to give him that. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just on my way to patrol."

"Patrol." I know I don't have much time. Our schedule is rather tight. But there's no reason why I can't play with him for a little while. Why I can't make him think he might yet get away. A little psychological instead of physical torture. It's a small thing compared to what I want to do to him, but it'll have to be enough.

"Yes, patrol. It's Four's fault, actually. He screwed up the schedules when he was working with Zeke last week, somehow they missed out an entire sector, and now we all have to do overtime." He sighs dramatically. "But you know how it is, everything for the faction, am I right?"

As far as blatant lies go, this one isn't actually too bad. For a start, he's trying to play on my well-known dislike for the Stiff-king himself, trying to divert my attention to someone else's screw up. He doesn't know that Four and I have outgrown our mutual hatred long ago and moved on to a much more professional antipathy. I keep staring him down.

"Faction before blood."

"You take the words right out of my mouth, Eric. Faction before blood."

I have to hold back a smile. This is fun. I wish I could draw this out.

"Tell me, Peter, was there a point where you missed that said faction is no longer Erudite?"

"Erudite? I mean... what are you trying to..."

"How many times have I told you dumb suckers that we take 'faction before blood' serious around here?" He should realise by now that his attempts to deflect have failed. That I'm on to him. "I know hat you've been in contact with dear old home for a while now. I know that you regularly meet with one of their agents on the roof. I also know that you've been passing on Dauntless interna to Erudite."

I pause, letting it sink in there's no way he can talk himself out of this. "Do you want to put a word to it, or shall I?"

Watching all colour drain from his face is a small victory, but it's not enough. It's not nearly the punishment he deserves for what he did. When he attacked my wildcat I was furious. This transgression can't and won't go unpunished. But his betrayal of Dauntless weighs almost equally heavy against him.

"I'll make this easy for you. I call it treason. And you know how we deal with traitors in this faction."

He tries to speak, but I cut him off. "I'm having my merciful day though. I'll let you prove to me that you're truly Dauntless. The only thing you have to do is fight me. And win."

I almost laugh as the expression on his face changes from fear, to hope, to utter despair. He has no chance in hell to beat me in a fight, and we both know it. I clench my fist, itching to throw the first punch and make him pay for what he did. Scott's warning, annoying as hell, rings in my ear. I'll wait. I'll let him come to me.

A picture of Lianna, poised and ready to fight flashes before my eyes. If this was her in front of me she'd already be going straight for the kill. Peter, however, takes longer than necessary to get into a proper fighting position. It looks as if he can't decide whether he's preparing to run away instead of fighting, but he must know that would be foolish. Not that his track record speaks for him in this regard.

When he lunges at me I'm ready.

His attacks are almost laughably easy to fight off. I've gone against bigger and stronger opponents than him, soldiers who came close to me in skill and ambition. I was always the last one standing, and tonight is not going to be any different. I can't let this go on for too long, but I make sure that the blows that find their mark hurt. A lot.

Peter's movements get more frenzied, fear making him careless, and I don't even have to do anything when his last botched attack takes him right over the handrail. Lucky for him I'm right there, grabbing his arm, for now preventing his fall into the darkness below.

"Hold on." A quick pause in which relief briefly lights his eyes. "Or don't." I let go of his arm, watching him cling to the handrail desperately. "Hang there, and I might forgive your cowardice." I take a step back and lean against the other handrail, enjoying the struggle on his face. He hasn't kept in shape as much as he should have, his grip is slipping and his arms are already starting to shake. For a while neither of us speaks, the Chasm only filled with the sound of rushing water.

"Fuck, how long are you going to keep me hanging here?" A smile spreads on my face at the obvious fear in his voice. He's only now realising that he might not get out of this.

"That depends entirely on you." I cross my arms, settling in for some more waiting time. "You're not getting over to this side of the handrail again. So the only question is, how long can you hold on?"

"You just said you'd forgive me!"

"I didn't say you'd be alive for that."

"Eric, you're crazy, you can't do this." I didn't expect him to start begging so soon, but he proves yet again that he never belonged here. "Let me back up, come on. I won't tell anyone about this. Jeanine can fuck herself. I'll even be nice to your little fuck-toy."

Rage I thought I had reined in washes over me. I don't care what Scott said, Peter has insulted her for the very last time. Hope flickers over his face when I bend over the rail and grab one of his arms. But the noise of the water isn't loud enough to drown out his scream when I swiftly break every finger in his right hand.

"Wrong answer, Nosey boy."

Peter howls in pain and tries to hold on with just one hand, but it's too late. His other hand has lost its grip on the rail. We both watch it slip almost in slow motion. His broken hand is no use to him. I feel nothing but satisfaction as his screaming face vanishes in the darkness below.

I turn away, heading towards Marc's apartment for the next part of our cover story. The red haze lifts, fury slowly fading as I contemplate our next steps. Peter paid for his crimes. He was the first to die for what he did to my wildcat, but he won't be the last. I'll make sure of that.


End file.
